


i'll know my song well

by actualflower



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Im Here To Provide Content For My Favorite BroTP If It Kills Me, also: vox machina are actually kinda awful to people sometimes: the fic, cass needs more friends and so does tary, traumatized people being traumatized together: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualflower/pseuds/actualflower
Summary: Whitestone air is always cold. It blows through the open window, carrying new-spring scents with it, along with the rustle of leaves. Outside, in the courtyard, she can see Vex’ahlia and Trinket play-fighting. Trinket bats Vex to the ground gently and then lays down on her, and even from up here, three stories high, Cassandra can hear her laughter.“I don’t think they mean to, not really,” Taryon murmurs, half-spoken into his tea. It ripples against his breath, almost threatens to splash into his face with how close he holds it as he speaks.originally published in the Folk Tales of Exandria zine.
Relationships: Taryon Darrington & Cassandra de Rolo
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: Folk Tales of Exandria





	i'll know my song well

**Author's Note:**

> big shout outs to @sparxwrites for organizing the ftoe zine, and all the other participators! glad i get to share this with all y'all now <3 please check out everyone's work in the collection, it's all so amazing i have no words for how good these folks are ;^;
> 
> stay safe, love each other, and wash ya damn hands

Whitestone air is always cold. It blows through the open window, carrying new-spring scents with it, along with the rustle of leaves. Outside, in the courtyard, she can see Vex’ahlia and Trinket play-fighting. Trinket bats Vex to the ground gently and then lays down on her, and even from up here, three stories high, Cassandra can hear her laughter.

“I don’t think they mean to, not really,” Taryon murmurs, half-spoken into his tea. It ripples against his breath, almost threatens to splash into his face with how close he holds it as he speaks.

Cassandra Johanna Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo holds her teacup in both hands, willing warmth into her cold fingers. Absently, one of her hands comes up to tug at the shawl around her shoulders, keeping it close around her. A snort threatens at the image of Tary’s tea spilling onto his own face, but she holds it in. “What do you mean?” she says instead. They’d been talking about something idle, weather or trade or something she’s been learning how to fake interest in to keep Whitestone afloat. It’s much easier without the weight of scaley dominion over their shoulders.

And it’s become much more common, this tea with Taryon Darrington, over the past year that they’ve climbed out from under that shadow. He’s certainly not  _ easy _ to like, but he’s strangely— _ normal _ , amongst the rest of them. If you ignore the automaton, maybe. She’s gotten used to ignoring the bigger strangeness of her friends.

“Vox Machina,” he responds blithely, waving his free hand in the air. He finally takes a sip of the tea. His nose scrunches in distaste. “Is this what we usually drink?”

“A new blend, courtesy of Keyleth,” she explains, almost apologetic. She didn’t want to inflict it on herself alone. 

Taryon hums as if he knew it all along. Cassandra rolls her eyes. He leans back in his chair, looks out the window with the calculately bored air of someone who wants to be where they are, but has been trained to never look too interested in the things they really enjoy. Cassandra can sympathize.

“What did you mean,  _ ‘they don’t mean to’ _ ?” she finally asks, breaking the careful silence that’d settled between them. 

Taryon breathes in, shoulders straightening. His voice stays an even, almost blithe tone. “I don’t think they mean to be as cruel as they are,” he explains, and Cassandra has to stop and swallow her tea around the lump that’s formed in her throat. “Don’t you think so?” He sighs. “I don’t have the faintest clue what’s happened to them, but it has to be awful, for each and every one of them.”

Cassandra schools her face into thoughtfulness. “I think that’s a very kind way to look at it.” Her fingers tighten around her teacup. 

Tary looks over to her, lips slanting into something vaguely apologetic. “Sorry. I forget that one of them is your brother.” He sips from the tea, still frowning when he does. “You know, if you ever wanted to talk--” 

“Don’t worry, Taryon,” she says, because his voice sounds almost  _ uncomfortable _ with how much sincerity he’s trying to put into it, “I know who they are. And you’re…”

She sighs. It’s like pulling out her own teeth, saying this, but at the same time--she feels her shoulders slump, her fingers loosen. “You’re not wrong,” she near-murmurs.

In her periphery, she can see Taryon’s shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank the Gods, I thought I was the only one.” She watches his hand come up to scrub over his face, carefully avoiding his styled mustache. “You know it better than anyone, I bet.”

She can’t help it--a laugh bubbles out of her before she can stop it, snorting into her tea as she raises it to her lips. “One of them is my brother,” she says, and she can’t seem to control much of anything, if the note of bitterness in the words is as apparent as she thinks.

Taryon raises an eyebrow. “Your brother is nearly as smart as I am, and twice as mad as the rest of them.” She gives him a pointedly amused look, and he relents. “I mean it only in the most complimentary of ways.” 

“‘ _ Complimentary _ ’,” she mocks, and Taryon laughs in return.

“Be careful,” he warns, “you’re getting dangerously close to  _ snark. _ ”

“This is my damned house, and I’ll snark in it if I want to.”

They’re both smiling, now. The shawl’s fallen off her shoulders to rest in the crook of her elbows, and she doesn’t feel quite cold enough to pull it back up.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Taryon says, and there’s a drifting note of distance in his voice. He looks back at her, and for all his self-absorbed nature, there’s  _ recognition _ there, too. “He’s left you with all this.”

“I was always going to run a household,” she responds automatically, because it’s true. That doesn’t mean she wanted to run it like  _ this _ , alone, even surrounded by the rest of the city, or even the Chamber.

“I was supposed to take over for my father,” he replies, and presses his lips together in a frown. 

Cassandra feels the impulse to reach up, press a hand to his arm, so she does. He looks over at her with a sad, slow smile, and she returns it easily. 

“It’s all rather…” She waves a hand in the air, unable to find the words.

Taryon looks at her, looks at the door, back again. His voice is filled with an affected air of importance. “It’s kind of fucked, isn’t it?” 

“We’re all a little fucked,” she agrees, nodding sagely, and then--

Both of them laugh, full-bellied, shoulders shaking. Cassandra nearly spills her tea on her own dress. Taryon  _ does _ spill his tea on his shirt, cursing and gasping the entire time, and Cassandra keeps laughing, even while Doty comes over and tries to clean the stain when Taryon directs the automaton. She laughs even harder when Doty only succeeds in smearing the stain around.

“You’re an odd one, Taryon Darrington,” she says, after they’ve tried (and failed) to rid his shirt of the stain, and he’s spent a good few minutes pouting about it before they both burst into giggles again.

“Says  _ you _ , Cassandra de Rolo,” he retorts, sipping pointedy from his (empty) teacup, pinky and nose raised snootily in the air.

She responds by turning her face away from him in a just-as-pointed snub, enough to keep his expression in the corner of her eyes. She watches his face morph into a smile. 

They only hold for another moment before they’re back to giggling again. 

Cassandra wipes a tear from her eye, still smiling. Taryon calls Doty over to hold up a tissue to his face for him, which only makes her laugh harder.

It’s a good morning, all things considered.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! comments/kudos are love!
> 
> [@kaytewrites](http://kaytewrites.tumblr.com) on tumblr || [@actualflower](http://www.twitter.com/actualflower) on twitter || [@calebwidogast](http://calebwidogast.tumblr.com) on tumblr (personal/fandom)


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